


the change is incremental

by strawberrybird



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: 5+1 Things, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Nagamas 2019, cups of tea used to indicate emotional development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrybird/pseuds/strawberrybird
Summary: "Frederick was a man of habit, of routine. And Robin has trodden her sandles all over his mid afternoon tea time.It was almost endearing."Frederick, Robin, and the cups of tea along the way ~written for nagamas 2019
Relationships: Frederick/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65
Collections: Nagamas Gifts





	the change is incremental

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chidorinnn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/gifts).



> hello! This was written for @chidorinnn as a nagamas gift! i'm so so sorry it's taken til the 11th hour, I've accidentally had a chaos of a december/january !! but i hope you enjoy it ! :)
> 
> This was rather a love letter to my initial wade into fire emblem fandom, and i hope my long time love for fredrobin does them justice here :'o also this wasn't meant to mimic the 3H mechanic, but I only twigged it was similar over half way thru.. alas X)  
> title from josh pyke's song 'stories that get told' :)

1.

The campfire crackled over the neat little pit the tall blue knight had made for them. Robin scooted a little closer to the flames to warm herself against the chill of the forest. The light soft cloak she wore didn’t do much against the damp air, and her new company looked far cosier in their heavy cottons and chenille.

Robin - that was very much her name, despite the eyebrows raised - fidgeted with her hands. The residual buzz of the thunder tome use still lingered in them, fire light showing the creases and lines of sustained magic use. Yet she didn’t recall carrying a tome until it was needed.

Another mystery to add to her lot.

The knight glowering at her across the fire, however, thought the mystery was in fact very shallow. In that there was no mystery, Robin was some kind of spy, and she should be grovelling on the forest floor to be allowed in the vicinity of this Chrom fellow.

Robin may not know much, but she knew she didn’t appreciate the hostility.

The knight – Frederick, prim and proper as his name suggested- looked far too tall to be comfortable on the log. He sat with his lance at his side, back exposed to the larger part of the clearing behind their little campsite. Chrom had introduced him as his retainer, but he seemed more in line with a babysitter so far, bundling Lissa into a neatly knitted jumper.

Chrom seemed to run around the place like a book fallen open, and Lissa seemed far more exposed than her metal cage of a skirt would suggest.

Frederick, however, seemed intent on building walls between Robin and the royals like it was his job.

Which, Robin supposed, it rather was.

She’s snapped out of her navel gazing by the whistle of a kettle Frederick has produced from nowhere. The warm malty scent of Ylissian breakfast tea cut through the dank cold of the forest,

“Careful, it’s really hot.” Chrom hands her a tin mug with his gloves on, but the deep heat of the metal felt only dimly warm against her calloused and magic-cracked hands.

She didn’t even need to turn to look to know Frederick was staring daggers into her cup of tea.

Loud little Lissa had even stopped trying to mitigate Frederick’s hostility.

“I’ll take first watch.” Frederick poked at the fire, eyes firmly fixed on Robin.

Robin had already weighed up her options, deciding it'd be far better to stay up with Freddie here than try take watch with his charge. “I’ll join you.”

The sunset brought the cold in properly. Robin sat across from the knight, staring into the gloom behind him. The fire crackled away in between them. Frederick’s little crochet project was growing by the second, the atmosphere between them as tense as the yarn.

“I don’t trust you.” He said, staring over her shoulder into the trees behind.

Robin shrugged slightly, prodding at the fire. It wasn’t like she had asked.

“You turn up, clothed in Plegian robes, no memories, no name, reeking of dark magic and are clearly proficient in a very caustic form of spellcraft, and you expect me to welcome you into the crown prince’s company? Hogs breath.”

“I didn’t expect anything.” Robin poked the fire a little harder, a charred log falling into the centre. “I knew the prince’s name before I knew my own, this morning. I don’t know what to tell you to believe.”

Frederick nodded slowly at her, before turning back around to stare out into the dark of the forest.

2.

Robin stumbled into the shepherds’ barracks with half the royal library in her arms. The sun was waning over Ylisse, and Robin intended to park herself next to a window and a candle and not stop reading until she understood Ylissian battle formations inside and out. The pile of books had obstructed her line of sight, so she had bumbled their way towards the barracks sideways, like a scuttling crab.

The metaphor may have been borrowed from Lissa, but it felt a little too apt to let it go.

She doesn’t even notice Chrom’s knight when she spills her books onto the table.

Frederick sits alone with a raised eyebrow and a pot of tea. “Ah, Robin. I didn’t expect to see you.”

He looked settled in his spot, mismatched cup and saucer – knowing Frederick, deliberately so. The biscuit tin lid was askew, and the faint trace of crumbs across his lips told Robin all she needed to know.

Frederick was a man of habit, of routine. And Robin has trodden her sandles all over his mid afternoon tea time.

It was almost endearing.

Robin smiles to herself over the knitted tea cosy. ‘I think I see now where Lissa gets her fondness for tea from”

Frederick gives a polite huff of laughter. “That would be from Her Grace, actually.”

His posture straightened, fingers drumming on the table. Clearly in two minds about sharing more information on Royal Tea Habits as Robin set up camp across the table.

“Frederick! Thought I’d find you with your afternoon tea!” Prince Chrom barrelled into the room like a small hurricane and parked himself next to Frederick. “New paperwork delivery. After that you’re wanted you down at the stables with Ser Phila to glance over the new Queensguard recruits.” He reached to swipe a biscuit from the tin. Frederick swatted his hand away with ease. Chrom seemed to find this hilarious. “Maribelle wanted to see you about – I don’t know what, something about either the style of curtains or security in Lissa’s room, and Miriel is asking after your help – she sent me with a note, but it’s illegible as ever”

Frederick harrumphed.

Circling around to hover over Robin’s shoulder, Chrom squinted at her books. “Ylissian military, Robin?”

She nodded, uncapping her ink and drawing a handful of tatty quills out a coat pocket. “If I’m to lead you in battle, I should know how you fight, after all.”

Frederick apparently tried and failed miserably not to snort in derision.

“Ignore Freddie” Chrom clapped her shoulder, Frederick drawn up indigent at the slight. “I have every faith in you as our new tactician.”

Chrom left the same way he came in, restless energy and bright smiles, the Falchion banging against his hip.

Robin glanced over at Frederick before burying her head into the nearest tome.

He cleared his throat.

Robin stared.

“I’m sure you’re already quite aware of my objections to your new position in the army.” Frederick said at Robin, but staring straight through the window. “However Lady Lissa and Lord Chrom have told me to cease vocalising my distrust of you.”

Robin’ continued skritching quill across parchment, pretending she wasn't listening as intently as she was.

“Therefore,” Frederick continued, “I would be delighted for you to prove my fears wrong.”

Robin looked back up and blinked at him, her eyebrow raised in 2 parts indignation to amusement.

Frederick stares at her, before returning to his own routine world of tea and paperwork, emptying the pot into his teacup.

The tea smelled a touch bitter for Robin's taste anyway.

3.

It was always a mild shock how much washing up an entire army could generate in a single meal, Robin thought as she started scrubbing.The meat sauce was crusted onto the bottom of the pot, where Stahl and Gaius had left it to simmer on the fire. Very tasty, but given Robin was up to her elbows in bubbles and nothing was budging, it felt like the equivalent of a bitter aftertaste.

“Robin, let me take over. Frederick appeared at her side, dress shirt sleeves already precisely rolled up to his forearms.

It was very easy to forget quite how strong Frederick was, buried underneath layers of metal and riding gear.

“Be my guest”, Robin said, backing up and offering the scrubbing brush and the responsibilities over.

She picked up the dishtowel and lent back against the wooden bench just behind, watching Frederick strain to scrub away the food.

“What are your thoughts on our position?

Fred paused mid-scrub. “I think we are amiable colleagues. You’ve proven yourself trustworthy by now, and so for that you earn my social niceties.” He started scraping with renewed vigour.

Robin snorted laughter, “Our army’s position, Freddiebear, but it’s nice to know I’ve made it to friendship with you.”

If Robin knew better, she’d have sworn blind she saw Frederick’s cheekbones turn a dusty pink.

(Robin did know better. And would never have mentioned it aloud anyway.)

“I think Sumia and Gaius make an effective team on our left flank. It might be worth training up another archer to support from the back, as I’ve said before. Cordelia and Phila control our right side, and Miriel pushes forward from the centre with Chrom.” The steady scrub of the brush didn’t stop. Detail, detail. “You already know these opinions, Robin.”

Robin scrunched up the dishtowel. “I meant the opinions you don’t trot out in our strategy meetings.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Sumia needs another flyer to support her, even if it does draw the risk of the enemies concentrating their archers. I think to have Ser Phila and Lady Emmeryn on the battle field is a highly danger gamble. Ricken needs to be taken off the battlefield until he’s no longer dead weight, and you would do well to study basic healing magic."

“why not bring it up in the strategy meeting. Given you run the training, Fred, I value your opinion.”

“It’s Frederick, thank you. I made my feelings on Lady Emmeryn’s involvement quite clear to her, but she refuses to heed my council. She’s set on ‘doing her part’ for us all.”

He set the sparkling pot on the bench with a dull clang.

“If I was capable of talking her out of it, we would not be having this discussion, Robin.”

She hadn't considered Frederick would be so genuine with her. But, in such times of war, even Frederick the wary has to trust his tactician. 

Frederick filched two mugs out Robin’s tea towel and set them sedately on the bench. He didn’t elaborate. Being a woman of mystery herself, Robin wasn't going to be one to disrupt as he pulled two tea bags out the battered canister at the back of the food store and produced a little metal pot that she, no stranger to kitchen duty, would swear up and down she’d never seen in the stores before.

“Would you care to join me, Robin?” He held up the pot in question.

Robin rapped her knuckles on the bench in delight and response. "Why I'd be delighted Frederick", she grinned wide. 

Frederick snorted in response. 

“What tea is it?”

Frederick tapped his nose.

It turned out to be strawberry tea. Soft little silk bags of it, with little rose petals – Robin peeked inside the pot to see.

“Any particular reason?”

“Can’t a knight share a beverage with the only other sane person in that strategy tent?”

“Ser Phila would have your hide, Freddie.”

He stirs his tea and raises an eyebrow, "We fought once during training at the palace, actually. She claimed she'd have won if her flying horse was allowed in the fight."

"So where's the tea from?" Robin sniffed at it. It seemed a little off kilter for her taste.

Fred calmly stirred a pinch of sugar into his cup. He says they’re a birthday gift from Maribelle to Lissa, who doesn't know he's been drinking his way though it.

She doesn’t believe a word of it, grinning at him over the teapot. Frederick would never break that many rules, let alone steal a birthday gift. The same man that once picked stones off a path before Chrom could walk his royal boots over it. 

"Not a chance, Freddiebear." She joked, "I don't believe a word."

‘I am a lawless man, Robin." Frederick says with a raised eyebrow. "Lissa hates rose flavoring, but doesn’t wish to hurt Maribelle’s feelings. Thus, I have free reign over the tea caddy.”

She laughed into her mug. Well, that would certainly explain why Lissa had volunteered for every afternoon job going, in the face of Maribelle’s request for tea time. Perhaps there's truth in the tale.

Robin takes a sip of the tea and immediately wishes she’d done literally anything else.

“This is the kind of tea that wants me to have an opinion about it.”

Frederick arched an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

Robin swirled the tea around before knocking it back. “I refuse to give it one if it wants one so badly.”

Frederick’s deep rumbling chuckle filled the tent.

4.

It was a grim night in Regna Ferox. If Robin was less superstitious, she’d have thought the gods had almost planned it. But you don’t let a queen die without some kind of cosmic consequence. It seemed even the weather mourned the loss of a queen like Emmeryn.

Robin tapped gently on Frederick’s door with the plate of buttered bread, knocking it ajar.

“It’s me.”

It was unnerving to see Frederick so still. He sat alone at a tea table laid for two, one tea cup full and one half empty and cold. 

Robin didn’t dare sit herself down in front of a full cup of Emmeryn’s favourite tea.

He barely blinked as Robin set the plate on the nightstand and settled into end of the bed, across from him.

Frederick cut her off before she could speak, “You don’t need to apologise.”

“That doesn’t mean I –“

“No,” Frederick fidgeted with the cup in front of him. “You don’t have anything to apologise to me for.”

The guilt that had been clawing its way up Robin’s throat trembled in the back of her teeth. “___”

“We did our best, Robin. And it was not enough. That is all there is to say.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the night.

When Robin woke up, tucked into Frederick’s own bed, she found a cup of tea on the nightstand.

Jasmine. Somewhat bitter.

It was lukewarm, but she drank it anyway.

5.

“Get going, Ser Frederick.” Sumia swatted the dishcloth at them both as she chased them out the tent. “We've got a handle on the washing up!.”

“Make sure you put the bigger pots –“

“Into the new tray for transportation, yes Freddie. It’s not our first kitchen duty.” Cordelia winged the other dishcloth at him.

“We’re officially reprimanded.” Robin grinned as she drew Frederick away from the itching need to micromanage the washing up and towards Libra on watch at the entrance of camp.

“So I heard Chrom has barred you both out of the strategy tent for the day?” Libra smiles.

Out the corner of her vision, Robin caught Frederick ever so slightly roll his eyes. 

Rather everyone heard the new king of Ylisse kick his military council out the strategy tent at 2 in the morning. Somewhere between Chrom’s creative use of expletives, the late hour, and the exasperating rumours already traipsing through camp, everyone and the Risen had their thoughts about their activities.

Which, were nothing more harmless than Frederick's close-minded and frankly derogatory attitudes to the army's magic use.. and Robin's very correct opinions on their over-reliance on high quality weaponry and Anna's bargain bin. 

It had absolutely nothing to do with anything about Robin's opinions on how Frederick's waistcoat perfectly highlights his broad shoulders and the strong cut of his jaw and, if Cordelia and Sumia knew what was good for them, they'd keep quiet about the time Robin waxed lyrical about how unfairly handsome Frederick was.

Anyway. On Chrom's irate orders they had been told to get out and "Learn to have a proper ****** conversation" with each other. Robin found this quietly hilarious. 

“It seems there is no kind of tea parlour or café in this town. What do you suggest we do now?”

“Keep your hair on Freddie, I’ve got a plan.”

“Forgive me for not being filled with confidence at you battle tactic approach to a spot of afternoon tea, Robin.”

Robin ended up marching into the bar and asking for 2 mugs of boiled water. Which, she might have garnered a strange look or two, but it worked marvellously with the mint leaves she’d squirreled in a coat pocket.

They sit in silence at the weathered wooden table outside, squinting in the sunlight. From one of her pockets, Robin dragged out a substantial handful of wax wrapped sugar cubes, plonking them into the hastily cleaned ashtray.

Frederick raised his eyebrow, his chuckles rumbling deep when Robin flipped him off.

“Ylisse’s great tactician, how your genius does blind me.”

Robin snorted her laughter. 

They both fell silent again.

Well, nothing like stating the obvious to start conversation. “It’s nice to see you in places other than across the strategy tent.” Robin slurped at her tea. It was true. Their little equilibrium of tea time had been rather halted by the inconvenience of war.

Which, of course, the war was very much the important thing. Not the cups of tea.

“We meet for training every day, you can hardly complain we’re ships in the night.” Frederick blew gently on his tea.

“Yes, in the middle of my push up set I’ll crack out the earl grey.” Robin joked.

“I suppose our friendship is tempered by the war, but we can hardly complain.”

She sighed, dunking a leaf up and down. "Our friendship has spanned the length of this war to date. I should have seen a fight like ours coming."

The tension in Frederick's shoulders seemed to ease a little and he readjusted his posture. "It was arguably a natural product of our professional relationship," he paused, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "And arguably a productive outcome. I would be far more worried if we were in total agreement over it."

It was nice to be on the same page again, Robin thought as she tapped her mug against Frederick's, swinging back into light-hearted. " 

Robin started fiddling with a sugar cube wrapper.

Frederick didn’t miss a beat – “Don’t play with your food.”

Robin snorted and lobbed the sugar cube at him.

It bounced smartly off his – beautifully tailored and fitted – waistcoat, landing with a small splash into his tankard of tea. Frederick looked somewhere in the vicinity of gravely offended but, most wonderfully, like he was desperately trying not to smile.

Robin threw her arms in the air in victory. It was always a bit of an achievement to make him laugh.

Him throwing a sugar cube neatly into her tea, however, was an outright declaration of war, Robin thought as she mirrored the smirk on Frederick's face will a silly grin. 

6.

They managed to scrape enough time for fire side cup of tea together after camp had fallen asleep.

“Are you cold at all?” Frederick placed a knitted scarf into her free hand regardless, coming down to sit on the rough carved wooden stool next to her.

Robin sank her fingers into the grooves of the knit. “How many of these have you made?”

“This week?”

She shook her head. “Over the years?” Robin draped the scarf across the back of her neck, where her hood never quite covered. The scarf was as neatly made as all his other work – uniform little stocking stitch of gold and purple blended wool.

Robin rubbed the tasseled end between her fingers.

“More than I could possibly count”, Frederick said, his posture easing in the warmth of the fire. “But,” he smiled, “I’d hazard Milord and Lady have lost twice as many as I've made, so I’m working on a deficit.”

“Then thank you for this one.” Robin dumped tea leaves into her favourite pot – a stout little thing in a bright coral colour. "I probably shouldn't be as pleased as I am that you got vengeance on the Risen that stole my scarf."

Frederick drew up like a prissy bird, just as she'd hoped. "The Risen made a fatal strike at your neck with a silver lance, and you're saying it 'stole your scarf'? Robin, please!"

Her laughter was perhaps a little too loud in the quite night. 

The whistle of the kettle was sharp against the late evening light. Robin grabbed it from the fire and decanted into the pot. It was a bit novel to do this again, to grab 10 minutes next to each other was a rarity these days, with every new march leading them closer to darken Gangrel's doorstep. 

"This reminds me of when we first met you." Frederick said in the quiet. "It has been rather a long way since then."

"Don't you go thinking of apologising again, Freddie." She huffed a bit of laughter, "We're a little past that too."

Frederick drummed his fingers against his knees. "It would pain me greatly if you continued to think I would hold your life with so little regard." He didn't look at her, gazing somewhere out over the campfire.

Robin snaps her head to look at him, her brow furrowing slightly. That was more candid than she'd heard from Frederick most of ever. "Thank you, Frederick." She said softly.

"Of course, you're an essential part of the army. We owe so much of our success to your character. You have become quite invaluable." He quickly follows on, and Robin can't keep the plummet of disappointment to herself.

"Oh. Thank you -"

"And indeed, to our friends... You're as much a part of the Shepherds as any of us. Your warmth, your kindness.. you've made time for every one of us." 

"Frederick -"

"It's quite true." He barely flicked his eyes over to her, just missing her own steady gaze. ". I don't think any of the Shepherds could imagine life without you, Robin."

The hot ball of hope in her heart started to flicker alight. 

He met her stare, poised at the edge of speech. Like he was looking for permission to say something further. 

"I do not think even I could imagine a world without you in it, Robin." He spoke softly, almost drowned in the crackle of the fire beside them. 

They were so close together, shoulders just knocking into each other, close enough to see Frederick's long lashes flutter just slightly. Close enough that Robin felt more warmth from Frederick than she did the fire. 

\- and Frederick leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, softly sweetly.

Robin could taste the tea.

Frederick drew back, drawing his posture uptight, couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. “I apologise for my inappropriate conduct, Robin. We need never speak of this again if you so wish – “

Robin darted to grab his hand, calloused in hers, bright hot hope boiling in her chest.

“Frederick, you can walk away if you want.” She says, steadily as she would notch an arrow, “but only if you regret it.”

Frederick doesn’t move an inch. He looks at her, his eyes bright in the fire light. “and if I don’t regret it?”

Robin pulled him back in with a grin on her lips and her hands on his waistcoat lapels.

‘Freddie, what about the tea?’

‘Sod the tea’ he says, kissing the corner of her smile

7\. 

In the middle of the table sits a gleaming silver teapot, ornately carved with leaves and round as a tomato. Over slices of Gaius and Sumia's gift of wedding cake, the tea gets passed from cup to cup, full of a bright and sunny earl grey. 

"Thank you, Robin." Frederick kisses her temple, an arm round her shoulders. 

"For pouring you a cup of tea?" She grins up at him, taking his hand in hers.

"For everything."


End file.
